


out of ideas

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pegging, Sex Shop, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Hermione's not going to let her sex life suffer if there's something she can do about it. Luckily, after a few false starts, Ron's on board.Harry is no help. At least his boyfriend has something useful to contribute.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Kinktober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 25
Kudos: 152





	out of ideas

**Author's Note:**

> the october 23 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _pegging_.

Hermione has always thought of herself as practical. Rational. Logical. She sees a problem, she works out the solution, she implements it—problem is now gone.

That served her well in school, even with all the mad shit Harry got them into, and it serves her well now at work at the Ministry, trying to drag the old fools on the Wizengamot into the nineteenth century (yes, _nineteenth_ —it will be the work of her entire _life_ to get them up to the current year, if she ever succeeds) and get laws that actually _help_ people passed.

She’s used this ethos to get her through those first few uncomfortable months working with Draco Malfoy, when he was awkward and stuffy, and she was angry and cold, but they both wanted to _fix_ things. It’s what led her into forcing Harry and Draco into spending time together until they figured themselves out and realized what she’d gotten right away—they’re both idiots, and perfect for each other.

And now, she’s going to use it to fix her marriage.

Not that her marriage is _broken,_ per se—she loves Ron, and he loves her, and really, who _wouldn’t_ want to marry their soulmate—it’s just, recently, with her early mornings at the Ministry and Ron’s late nights with George at Wheezes, they’re running into a bit of a… _rut,_ if she has to give it a name.

The fact of the matter is, their sex life has gotten stagnant, and Hermione worries that if it goes on for much longer, it’s going to hurt their relationship as a whole.

So, she puts together a plan. She writes up lists of suggestions. She comes up with arguments, and counterarguments, and a closing statement. She’s _ready_.

And then when she sits Ron down to talk to him about it, he turns as red as his hair and flees when she’s not even halfway through her first list ( _Sexual Kinks to Explore—Please Check Y or N_ ).

She finds him later at Harry’s, rat-arsed and mortified, with Draco sitting next to him and speaking very earnestly while Harry fusses with snacks in the kitchen. She drags him home and puts him to bed and sets out a hangover potion and two cups of water, then heads back to Harry’s.

Draco won’t tell her anything—she doesn’t blame him, he’s still delicate around Ron, still eager to win his approval for Harry’s sake—but Harry suggests, without meeting her eyes, that maybe next time she shouldn’t approach their sex life like it’s another Horcrux hunt, and Ron might be more receptive.

And that makes sense, she supposes; not everyone appreciates her approach, especially about more delicate matters, so the next day she apologizes and drops it for the time being.

A few weeks later, though, there have been no changes or improvements, and it finally comes out at pub night.

She, Ron, Harry, and Draco are tucked away in a private booth at the Golden Griffin—Draco had complained bitterly about the name until Harry quietly talked the owner into stocking Draco’s favorite wine, and really, Hermione had no idea Harry could be so romantic—and Ron and Harry are happily drunk, while Hermione sips on her second glass of wine and Draco watches Harry fondly.

“Ron,” Harry says earnestly, clasping Ron’s hands in his own over the table. Draco rolls his eyes at Hermione, and she hides a laugh in her wine. “Ron, mate. You really _should_ try it, you know. What Draco was talking about last month. I really, really think you’d like it, and—”

Draco, blushing pink, fits his hand over Harry’s mouth. “Wow, alright, perhaps that’s enough for these two,” he mutters, carefully sliding Harry’s glass away. “We’re in _public,_ and that is a _private_ conversation,” he hisses in Harry’s ear.

Hermione tilts her head and grabs Harry’s glass. Waste not, after all. “What were you and Draco talking about, Ron?” she asks, turning.

Ron, who cannot keep a single thing to himself when he’s been drinking, is only too happy to answer. “Draco suggested that _you_ should do _me,_ ” he answers proudly.

Draco groans. Hermione ignores him. That...hadn’t been on her list, but she’s not _opposed_ to the idea, she just figured Ron would never go for it—it will require research, of course, and she’ll need books, and…

Slowly, she turns to face Draco, who’s hiding his face behind his hand, and Harry, who’s flushed and smiling dreamily at Draco’s profile.

The only thing better than books? First-hand experience.

“Harry,” she starts, pointedly not acknowledging Draco thunking his head on the table. “Do you think Ron would like pegging?”

“Oh, is that what it’s called!” Harry says, too loud. Draco hastily casts several privacy charms. “That’s cute. _Pegging_. Draco, don’t you think that’s nice? Ron, you _have_ to try it, you’ll love it. I do! I especially like it when Draco—”

“ _Silencio,_ ” Draco says calmly, and Harry’s voice cuts out. Hermione’s relieved, frankly; she’s had to sit through one too many sessions of Harry getting tipsy and rhapsodizing _in excruciating detail_ about just how skilled Draco Malfoy is in bed. She can appreciate it in the abstract, but there’s nothing she’d rather imagine _less_ than her best friend having sex.

Ron is listing against her side now, they’re all going to have to call it a night soon. She downs the rest of Harry’s glass, then turns back to her wine.

“Granger,” Draco says from across the table, voice diffident. She meets his eyes, surprised at how uncertain he looks. She hasn’t seen him like this since they first began working together. “If you’d like, I...could, perhaps, take you to one of those _shops_ Harry may have mentioned to you. I know what you’d need to get, and it’s sometimes easier to go to one of those places for the first time with a friend. I’d suggest Harry, but—” He lifts the Silencing spell briefly, and Harry’s voice chatters on like he hadn’t noticed he’d been spelled quiet, and all Hermione needs to hear is _...and Draco’s so _big,_ I really like feeling it when he—_ before she nods hastily and Draco recasts.

He lifts an eyebrow at her; her face must be red. “I’m afraid Harry would be a bit, ah… _overenthusiastic_ for a beginner, and would point you in the direction of what _he_ wants. What do you say?”

And Hermione must be a little drunker than she thought, because she agrees.

* * *

That’s how Hermione finds herself waiting for Draco Malfoy outside of _Sullivan’s Salacious Supplies_ a week later, glancing at her watch every now and then and darting glances around her.

It’s not that there’s any _shame_ in shopping for sex toys; it was something she would have ended up doing even if her initial plan had worked out how she thought it would. It’s just...different, when you’re actually there to do it. She feels like everyone is staring at her, even though she knows they’re not.

Draco finally pushes through the crowd, slightly out of breath. He makes his apologies, but based on the bruise low on his neck, Hermione decides she doesn’t want to know, and cuts him off by opening the door.

They step through into the shop and she’s immediately overwhelmed. Draco was right—she’s glad she’s here with a friend.

Draco must see her wide-eyed stare, because he chuckles and leads her through to a corner of the shop where the shelves are adorned with harnesses and dildos of all shapes, sizes, and colours. “Now,” he says, gesturing at a shockingly large, neon-green toy on a top shelf, “ _that_ is the sort of thing Harry would want, and therefore would encourage you to buy to bring home to Ron. I rather suspect this would send him screaming out the door never to return, mm?”

Hermione glances from the dildo, to Draco’s crotch. Surely he can’t be suggesting… She looks up and meets his eyes, and he’s _smirking,_ and oh no, now she’s getting _images_ again, and even if they _are_ rather more impressive than she’d expected, she’d really prefer to not.

“You’re right,” she says, firmly putting it out of her head. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t let him talk me into something like that, but Harry can be persuasive when he’s excited about something, so...it’s for the best he isn’t here.”

Draco chuckles. “Too right,” he says, sounding pleased with himself, before moving on. “Now, Pansy has told me that this harness is her favorite—she says it does the best at, ah, ensuring that she’s enjoying the experience as much as her partner.” He gestures to a supple black leather harness, and Hermione looks over the info card, raising an eyebrow at the amount of features Spelled into it. That would explain the price tag, then. “And over here, I’d recommend one of these attachments for a beginner. They have the best lube up at the front desk.”

And so, in a scene she’d have slapped herself over back in school, she allows Draco Malfoy to guide her into purchasing the supplies she’ll need in order to most successfully fuck her own husband in his arse, listening as he discusses the steps and techniques and things to look out for as they go.

At the counter, when she’s counting out her Galleons for the cashier, she notices that Draco’s purchased the bright green fake cock, but wisely refrains from commenting. Some things are better left undiscussed, even when one party has just helped the other purchase sex toys of their own.

* * *

It takes some time, and some uncomfortable conversations, but finally, Hermione’s laying out her purchases while Ron excuses himself to the bathroom to cast the spells Harry recommended. Hermione had offered to do them, but he’d looked uncomfortable and muttered that there were still some things he’d like to keep private, so Hermione put the book she’d ordered (as helpful as Draco had been, she still sought comfort in seeing information on a printed page) on the edge of the sink after she showered and left him to it.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione surveys their bed, smoothing a hand down the silky teddy she’d put on in a panic while Ron was in the bathroom. The harness, the toy, and the bottle of lube look totally out of place on their bed, and the bottle looks _enormous_ next to the dildo, so Hermione rearranges everything until it’s more balanced.

Then she waits.

Ron finally shuffles out of the bathroom, looking flushed but determined, and Hermione opens her mouth, but before she can start talking he strides over to her and pushes her onto the bed, pinning her with a kiss.

“We’ve already talked about this,” he whispers in her ear, hand sliding down her side, cupping one of her breasts and stroking gently just over her groin, where her skin is incredibly sensitive. She gasps and shivers, and he kisses her again. “Let’s not talk anymore.”

Ron’s always been a good kisser—Hermione supposes she’s got Lavender Brown to thank for that, _not_ that she’d ever say anything like that to her face, Merlin, she’d be insufferable for _weeks_ —and soon Hermione is sinking into it, all her worries and lists floating out of her head as Ron slowly runs his fingers over her clitoris, lightly at first, then with more and more pressure, just the way she likes it, following the signals her body’s giving.

He’s hard—she can feel it against her thigh, where he’s rubbing with slight rocking motions—but when she starts to reach down, he shakes his head and pushes her hand away.

It’s not long before she’s gasping into his mouth, legs tensing as heat builds in her lower back, and he turns his head and sucks just below her ear, right in the spot that always gives her chills, and she comes with a cry.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, moving his hand to stroke along her stomach while she floats back to earth.

Soon enough, she’s recovered her faculties enough to remember the _goal,_ and shoves Ron’s shoulder until he’s lying on his back and laughing up at her sudden change of mood.

That laughter changes to a choked-out groan, she notes smugly, once she gets her index finger slicked up and pushes it up his arse. His jaw is tight and his eyes are closed, but he relaxes gradually as she moves her finger slowly, and his cock, which had softened at the initial intrusion, gets hard again once she finds his prostate and rubs over it, gently at first like Draco had suggested while she judges his reactions.

She adds another one, fascinated by the flush that’s slowly spreading down Ron’s torso and the way he’s writhing on her fingers. She feels—powerful, in charge in a way that she never has during sex before, and she _likes_ it.

Hermione’s been wet since Ron pinned her to the bed, but she’s starting to get that warm, aching feeling she gets when she’s desperate for his cock inside her, even though it normally takes her longer to get this worked up again after an orgasm, and for a moment she considers abandoning the entire endeavor and riding him until they both come, but Ron’s eyes open, then, and he glances over at the toy and harness off to the side, then looks at her, and she gets a shivery feeling down her spine. “Are you ready?” she whispers, and he nods frantically.

She scrambles off the bed and strips off the teddy, grabbing the harness and fumbling her way into it. Luckily, it’s charmed to adjust automatically once she’s got it pulled up around her waist, and she grabs the toy and attaches it with a whispered spell that is supposed to make it feel like _she’s_ getting fucked, too, while also applying suction to her clit.

Her knees buckle when the spell activates and it does _just that_ —she’s going to have to send a thank-you note to Pansy Parkinson.

She slowly slicks the toy, marveling at how it feels to stand at the foot of the bed stroking her cock, staring at Ron sprawled across the mattress and watching her in panting desperation.

Soon, though, it’s clear that he’s past the point of being comfortable with the tease, and she climbs back on top of him, pushing his legs further apart and settling between them. She takes her cock in hand and lines it up at his hole, then meets his gaze. “Are you sure?” she checks, and he frowns and pushes himself down towards her, so she nods and slowly eases herself in.

Ron’s legs are shaking by the time she’s fully seated, her hips flush to the back of his thighs, and he’s breathing so fast and sharp she’s afraid he’s going to hyperventilate. She leans forward, and they both moan at the change in angle as she kisses him, trying to calm him down. “Relax,” she says softly. “I’ve got you. I’m going to move now, okay?” And she starts to thrust.

It is—a wholly different sensation, being on this side of things; Hermione grits her teeth and holds Ron’s hips to control herself, to slide in and out steady and deep instead of wildly thrusting in like she wants to do. Ron is tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, now, and his hands are clenching and unclenching at his side, and when she tilts her hips just a bit and manages to find his prostate again he _howls,_ and when she gets her hand around his cock it’s only a few strokes until he’s coming, more than she’s ever seen before, and that sight, her husband lying spent and dazed on his back from her, from her _fucking_ him, is enough to push her over the edge, and she falls on top of him with a cry as she comes for a second time.

Slowly, she eases out of him, detaches the toy and the harness, and performs the hygiene spells the manufacturer recommended in the informational packet (she’ll do others later, but these are good enough to start with). She then turns to Ron and points her wand at him. “Do you want...well, there are numbing spells, and cleaning spells, do you want any of those?”

“Yes please,” Ron slurs, wincing when she casts, but soon she’s got them both tucked under the duvet, with Ron curled around her, one hand on her stomach, the other on her breast, his breath warm and humid and familiar against the back of her neck.

“Did you like it,” she says into the quiet of the room, suddenly nervous to hear his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he says through a yawn, “and we can talk about it tomorrow if you want; I’m happy to give you a full report, but I need to sleep now.” His voice is gentle and teasing, and she swats his forearm and huffs; the reaction he was looking for, her step in their little dance.

“Alright,” she whispers. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies as he drops off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/632919204850450432/kinktober-day-23-out-of-ideas).


End file.
